


Loss

by GhostShade



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostShade/pseuds/GhostShade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy's words struck a cord in Oliver... did he kill Malcolm? Oliver finds himself wanting to honor his best friend's memory in some way, so he returns to Meryln Global's roof soon after the quake subsides. What he finds puts him at odds with himself, but he knows what Tommy would want... A take on how Malcolm survived following season 1 finale</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss

**Summary** : After failing to save Tommy and hearing his final words regarding his father, Oliver finds himself drawn back to the roof where he and Malcolm squared off. When he gets there, the last thing he expected was for the elder Malcolm to still be breathing.  
So everyone has been wondering how Malcolm survived, and this popped into my head. I couldn’t shake it, so viola. It’s a one-shot, and once season 3 comes out, it will probably be completely wrong… but still fun in the mean time.

Everything hurt… Now that the adrenaline was fading, Oliver couldn’t ignore how his muscles trembled, and the agony that resonated from his chest. He was half-tempted to collapse outside of Laurel’s now demolished workplace, but he knew that the place would soon be crawling with rescue workers of all sorts. It wasn’t safe for him to stay, but the more he tried to pry himself away from the wreckage, the more he found himself unable to move. 

Tommy. Out of everyone Oliver had thought he would lose, Tommy hadn’t even been on his list. He hadn’t thought that his best friend since childhood would just be gone in an instance, and he hated himself. If only he had been quicker to get here or if he had succeeded in finding the second machine… but Oliver had learned the hard way on the island, there were no what-ifs and no redos. Tommy was gone, and worse yet, Oliver had taken his friend’s father then lied about it. He just hadn’t had the heart to tell Tommy as he bled out that the vigilante had stabbed Malcolm clean through in an attempt to stop it. To save hundreds of lives…

Oliver, thinking back, wished he had found another way to end the fight. There had to have been a second option, one that hadn’t required him to do what he did, but the more he considered it, the more he realized he had had no options. Not unless he wanted the elder Malcolm to kill him.

In the daze of his thoughts, Oliver hadn’t realized he had made his way back to his bike until he had practically banged into it. He paused before setting off; his eyes trailed back to the carnage surrounding him. The people screaming, the pleas for help, yet, he found himself trapped in silence. The island came to mind, and how many times, he had to force everything else out. He was doing the same here. In his ear, he was aware that Felicity and Digg were both trying to reach him, but he had even blocked them out for the moment. 

Tommy was dead. That was all Oliver could focus on, and with that, he forced himself onto his bike and away from the Glades. At first, he had planned to return to the Foundry, and then, he would head home. He had to check on Thea, and then, there was that whole ordeal with his mother. What a mess, Oliver couldn’t help but think.

However in Oliver’s current state, he found himself stopping outside Merlyn Global, and he glanced towards the roof. He thought back to Tommy and what his friend would have wanted… which wouldn’t be for his father to be dead face down in the gravel, psychopath or not. As much as he would have preferred a shower and to forget tonight’s failure, he headed back to the roof. 

Each step was painful, but he gritted his teeth to ignore it. At this point, he couldn’t tell if the pain was physical or emotional; either way, he didn’t have the capacity to deal with it, not at the moment. Once he reached the roof and was sure he was alone, he pulled his hood down and glanced around.

Any thoughts on his mind evaporated instantly at the sight of a blood puddle but no Malcolm. Oliver found his muscles tensing, and he had an arrow notched almost instantaneously. Severely injured, the Dark Archer was still a serious threat. He treaded lightly; the gravel crunching almost silently beneath his boots as he followed the blood trail.

As he came around a vent, he found the elder Malcolm leaned up against it, eyes closed. Oliver lowered the bow only a fraction before he pulled the arrow back. If the Dark Archer lived, then the Hood was within his rights to put the maniac down… but the longer Oliver stood there, he found that he couldn’t kill the man. He wasn’t up here as the vigilante; he had come to the roof because it was what Tommy would have wanted… and his best friend wouldn’t want him to end Malcolm like this.

Growling, Oliver lowered the bow and pulled off a glove. He bent to check Merlyn’s pulse to find it weak and thready, but it was present. He could call an ambulance, but what doctor in their right mind would even try to help… this man had just murdered easily over one hundred people. And Oliver couldn’t exactly take him back to Felicity and Diggle; both of them would also be likely to just kill him… well mostly Diggle, but Oliver was sure Felicity would be in the mood for some awkward threats. That left only one option. 

“Felicity,” he said into his microphone. Whatever she had been going on about for the last twenty minutes died in her throat. “I need… I won’t be coming back tonight. After everything, I have to clear my head.”

“Oliver,” Felicity could be heard saying. Her voice sounded close to breaking; she probably needed contact to deal with everything that just had happened.

“Diggle, can you head back and check on Felicity?” he asked. “If you’re too injured…” he also began since he remembered the two throwing knives embedded in his friend.

“Nah, I got this,” he answered back with ease. “I’ll stich myself up… Oliver,” he began. “This wasn’t your fault. Don’t run from this.”

“I’m not,” he frowned. “I just…” He glanced down at the unconscious man. “Have to clear my head before I go and see Thea. I’ll get ahold of you two soon. Oliver out.” He turned off his microphone, and for one of the first times, he reached into his boot and turned off the GPS tracker. He didn’t need Diggle following him, which he would likely want to do. 

Sighing, Oliver reached down and checked quickly to be sure Malcolm was actually unconscious before he heaved him up using his shoulder. It was slow going, but he was able to drag Merlyn out of the building with relative ease. With what had happened in the Glades, everyone had scattered or gone home to safety.

With a relatively rough toss, the younger archer got Malcolm on his bike, and then, he was off to his secondary base. The one neither Diggle nor Felicity knew about. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing or what he planned to do with Merlyn. As it was, the Hood persona was threatening to take over and put an arrow through Malcolm. Each time though, Tommy’s voice would cut through the fog, and Oliver would find a way to resist for now. 

 

When Malcolm woke, he was partially surprised to find himself waking, and the other was to discover he wasn’t in a hospital surrounded by cops. When the younger Queen had left the room to try and stop the inevitable, Malcolm had found the strength to try and escape, but he had lost too much blood. He had thought he would die on the roof, and he was gleeful that his plan had seemingly succeeded. Yet here he was awake and not cuffed down. 

The Dark Archer found he was on some sort of metal table, stripped of his top, and his chest was bandaged. He took his time and tried not to move too much; he wasn’t sure who had rescued him, but he was intelligent enough to know when to play unconscious. He could tell he was in some sort of abandoned building, but that was all he could tell without moving his head too much. 

Being trained by the League had honed all of his senses. He listened carefully, but the building was practically silent. The drip of water could be heard somewhere, and to his left, he could hear someone. Anyone else would have tensed up at the idea of being vulnerable on a table, but Malcolm was not anyone. He was highly trained, and while he still hurt, he was more than ready to kill whoever had taken him.

Malcolm chanced a look to his left, and he couldn’t hide his shock at the sight of Oliver Queen. The other archer had his back to Malcolm, his tunic also stripped and tossed in a corner… the elder Merlyn watched as Oliver’s shoulders shook in silent sobs. The wound on Oliver had yet to be cleaned up and bandaged… the one that the Hood had caused himself to stop Malcolm. And he doubted Oliver would cry over a scratch like that… especially when one considered how his body was littered with scars; wounds told a story.

The Dark Archer recognized torture scars anywhere; after all, there were some on his own body. When he had discovered who was under the Hood, he hadn’t hesitated in tying up the younger boy… and he had seen the scars then. Tommy had mentioned them at one point in a side conversation, but Merlyn had thought his son had been exaggerating. 

Nonetheless, Malcolm wasn’t going to lay around and let Oliver finish the job without some sort of fight. While his ribs protested the movement and his chest burned, Malcolm silently sat up and went to stand. However, he had lost more blood he had thought prior when his legs gave out. He crashed to the ground and attracted the other archer’s undivided attention. 

 

Oliver had been thinking of Tommy when he heard a curse and the table crashing over. He turned fully expecting Malcolm to be awake, but he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do with the elder Merlyn yet. He had hoped for a few more hours of peace before this, but he hadn’t been that lucky obviously. 

Based on the glare, Oliver could see that Malcolm wasn’t thankful, only angry. It wasn’t that all surprising considering the younger archer had gotten one up on the other. When the Dark Archer tried to stand again only to fail, Oliver couldn’t help but roll his eyes and set down the knife he had been holding. He had been about to stitch himself up when this all started. 

“Will you just get this over with?” Malcolm growled, teeth practically barred. 

“Get what?” Oliver replied as he crossed the room. He went to help Malcolm up, but the elder archer wouldn’t have it. He tried to weakly swing at Oliver, but exhaustion had obviously set in. 

“Kill me and be done with it,” he continued, lowering his head. On his hands and knees, Oliver felt pity. He didn’t forgive the man for destroying the Glades nor all the death he caused, but he remembered how his father’s death affected him. He wasn’t sure how Malcolm would take Tommy’s death, and while he wanted to drive that knife into Malcolm, he bit his tongue for the moment.

Oliver bent down again, and when Malcolm went to hit him, he caught the punch and twisted the arm behind Malcolm’s back. It wasn’t enough to break the appendage, but it was enough to be uncomfortable and to haul the Dark Archer back to his feet. Oliver used his other hand to right the table before shoving Malcolm against it.

“I didn’t stitch you up, so you could go ahead and start bleeding again,” he said. He didn’t dare turn his back on Malcolm again. The other archer had proved himself to be an immeasurable foe, and Oliver would not underestimate him again. “Get back on the table.”

“Or what?” Malcolm challenged. “Stab me again with one of your arrows?” He was just baiting Oliver. “I must admit I hadn’t expected that.”

“I did what I had to to stop you.” He backed up into the other table where his knife and medical supplies sat. 

“But you didn’t stop me, did you?” Malcolm gloated. “You should have left me up there to die.”

Oliver found his body shaking in rage. After everything he had gone through today, he was seriously considering taking Malcolm back to the roof in pieces. The man had killed his father, and then he kills his own son… yet he was still smiling. 

Unable to help himself, the younger Archer snatched up the knife and closed the distance between himself and Malcolm. The elder Merlyn didn’t put up a fight when Oliver grabbed a chunk of his hair and pulled his head back to rest the knife threateningly against his jugular. 

“No matter what you do to me,” Malcolm said calmly, “I still won.”

Oliver couldn’t help the hollow laugh that escaped him. “Sure you leveled the Glades and killed hundreds. You’re a sociopath,” he practically spit shoving the Merlyn away and into the table. Malcolm stumbled but he recovered relatively well considering his injuries. If he thought he had a chance, he would have rushed Queen, but he needed to wait for his opening first. He had been trained to harness and control his emotions, so he would wait until Oliver lost his cool again. Then, he would strike and drive that knife through the Hood’s heart. 

“Then why save me?” Malcolm asked. “You left me on that roof for dead. Why come back?” He was actually curious about this. It didn’t entirely make sense. If he had woken up with Oliver’s friends around, he would have been a bit less shocked… but from what he could see, they were alone.

“Because that’s what Tommy would have wanted,” Oliver growled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He watched the confusion filter over Malcolm’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked, each word annunciated. 

“I mean that you’re right you leveled the Glades,” Oliver answered. “But it’s too bad Tommy went down there to save Laurel.” He didn’t need to say anything else as Malcolm obviously could tell where this was going. Oliver had expected little reaction from the man after everything; he watched in a bit of shock then as Malcolm’s knees gave out.

“No,” he whispered. “He was at…”

“He went to get Laurel,” Oliver repeated. “The building collapsed, and I couldn’t… I didn’t… it was too late.” He couldn’t see the emotions play across Malcolm’s head as it was collapsed to his chest. “He only cared to know that Laurel got out, and then he asked me about you… He asked if I killed you, and I thought I had.” He sighed. “So when I saw you weren’t, I decided for Tommy I couldn’t just leave you up there. Stop making me regret that decision.”

Oliver hadn’t thought Malcolm posed any threat for a second, so he had turned to place the knife back down when he was tackled into the table. It wasn’t with the same skill that Malcolm had shown in all their prior confrontations, but it was still with enough force to jolt the younger Archer. His shoulder screamed at him in response, and he couldn’t imagine the pain Malcolm had to have felt for that.

Self defense kicked in, and Oliver threw an elbow directly into Malcolm’s wound. The Dark Archer hissed and stepped away which allowed Oliver to turn and kick him hard in the ribs. He watched as Malcolm didn’t stay down as he hoped, but quickly maneuvered into trying to trip him. He jumped over the move, but he wasn’t quick enough to dodge the kick to his thigh. He fell to one knee, and Malcolm didn’t hesitate in going in for another attack. Oliver, on the other hand, quickly rolled with the attack and allowed himself to fall back dodging the hit and jumping back to his feet. He kicked Merlyn hard across the face. 

“I am not the one that killed your son,” Oliver spat. “You did that!” He watched as Malcolm sat on his knees, sweat gleaming on his skin, and chest heaving. It was a small scuffle, but with their injuries, it had taken a lot out of them. Even, Oliver found his skin sticky with sweat and blood. His shoulder was still oozing a bit of blood. “Nothing you did was about saving the city. You wanted revenge, nothing more.” The truth poured from Oliver. “That’s the difference between you and me. I honor my father by seeking justice, and I might be a killer but I’m not a cold-blooded murderer like you.” He tossed a towel towards Malcolm; his chest was starting to bleed again through the stitches and bandage.

Malcolm didn’t touch the towel; he sat in silence, his head bowed. “I killed my son,” he whispered. “You’re right, I killed my son… Tommy…” He hadn’t been the greatest father, and he hadn’t exactly been top notch to Tommy the last time he had seen his son… but Tommy was just that, his son. He still cared, and to know, that it was his scheme, his idea, his plan that killed him… It was suddenly too much. “Just end this.” Malcolm said this not in anger or with intent of harming Oliver. He was being truthful. “I killed your father. I left you on an island to die.” He was ready to list every deed if it meant he’d get a reaction.

Oliver couldn’t help the kick that he struck Merlyn with. He didn’t hesitate in throwing two more punches before he controlled himself. He was better than this. He wasn’t on the island anymore. One hand was tightly around Malcolm’s throat, and Oliver realized he was on top of the elder Archer… and when he looked into Malcolm’s face, he saw something, emotion- regret… loss… Oliver recognized that look in himself, and with that, he found it in himself to pull away and force Malcolm up and onto the table.

“I have to redo your bandage now,” he said, monotone. “Unless you’d prefer to bleed out, but I’m sure that’s not what Tommy wanted.”

“You brought me here because that’s what my deceased son would have wanted,” Merlyn croaked out.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Oliver sighed as he brought over fresh gauze. He wasn’t entirely gentle pulling the first bandage away. “He didn’t want me to kill you deep down, so I couldn’t leave you to die on the roof… and I couldn’t leave you as I doubt the cops would have hesitated to put a few bullets into you.” Under his breath, Ollie couldn’t help but mutter, “Might have done you some good though.” He pressed the new gauze against the chest wound and re-wrapped it. The rest of the time Malcolm was quiet. 

When Oliver was finished, he went to move away; the silence a welcome reprieve over the last few minutes. However, Malcolm snatched his wrist and kept him firmly planted where he was. The grip wasn’t hostile, but Ollie wasn’t sure what to think of it either. He watched carefully as Malcolm grabbed the gauze and bandage from his hands and pulled him closer.

“You’re still bleeding,” Malcolm said as he maneuvered Oliver to stand with his back towards the Dark Archer. For some reason, Oliver didn’t feel threatened, so he didn’t fight. He was done for the night; emotional exhaustion had won out. He remained silent as Merlyn worked to close up the self-inflicted wound. The rest of his body was on the verge of shutting down, but he found it in himself to remain standing. 

When Malcolm finished, Oliver ended up next to the other Archer; both still silent. It seemed almost perfect that they both pay their respects for Tommy. The one person they both cared deeply for, and that neither had wanted to perish. 

Finally, Malcolm said, “Oliver…”

“No,” Ollie responded walking away to grab his tunic. He tossed Malcolm his. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.”

“Then what do you plan to do with me?” he asked shrugging his League of Assassin’s uniform back on. He glanced past Oliver to see his bow hoisted in a corner, but he didn’t care for the weapon at the moment. He was similar to Oliver at this very moment… he didn’t have it in him to kill the other Archer today. 

“Leave,” Oliver stated simply, and when Malcolm gave him an incredulous look, he continued, “As much as I’d love to see you rot in prison for the rest of your life, for the sake of Tommy, I am giving you one free pass. Get out of my city and don’t come back.” Oliver crossed the room and grabbed the Dark Archer’s bow. He cut the string and tossed it to Merlyn. 

“And if I do?” he asked staring down at his weapon.

“Then I will drive an arrow through your heart, and this time I won’t miss,” he growled. “When I come back tomorrow morning, you had better be gone. Wounded or not.” Oliver pulled up his hood, and found it in him to limp out.

In that moment, Malcolm admired and respected Oliver. He was skilled and dangerous. Under different circumstances, they would have made a deadly combination, but Oliver had chosen the beginning path of a hero… At least in this, they had shared a moment of loss and understanding. He gave Oliver a small nod as the archer left. 

The next morning when he returned, Malcolm was gone.


End file.
